


Only Shooting Stars Break the Mold

by Rydain



Category: Shin Sangokumusou | Dynasty Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkwardness, Friendship, Gen, High School, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rydain/pseuds/Rydain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lighthearted look at the joys of being a teenager - and discovering that you like other guys. Modern alternate universe fic, prequel to The Scholar and the Brawler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Shooting Stars Break the Mold

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Done. First the agility drills, then the skills, then the sprints and lunges and bear crawls. And finally - after Coach had reduced the entire football team to a mass of lumbering exhaustion - the showers. Everyone had run faster, kicked their knees up higher, slammed the tackle dummy like it had been insulting their mother for the past hour and a half. The Bulldogs were gnashing their collective teeth for next week's showdown with South High, who had creamed them into paste last year - and was about to sign a check of repayment in Spartan blood.

Cao Ren scrubbed himself off, tuning out the din that echoed off the tiled walls of the shower. Everyone was already making enough noise. Ren saw no need to add any of his own, nor did he particularly care to do so. This rivalry came off like a retread of that great and terrible feud between Grangerfords and Shepherdsons. Nobody was getting shot over it, but nobody could remember how it had started either. And by now, it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. At least Spirit Week inspired some true creativity. A bunch of the art and history types had built a decapitated soldier in papier mache and taken over the PA system to present a classical ode to their adversary's demise. Yet it also set the wannabe comedians on repeat with that dead old joke about dooming the South High Spartans to dine in hell. At this point, next Friday was already long overdue.

Ren stumbled out of the steam to be greeted with the stinging whack of a towel on his butt. Of course his cousin would be lurking in wait when he had forgotten to keep a look out. "Damn it, Yuan."

Xiahou Yuan only laughed. "Every time. Your mouth falls open the same way every time." He imitated the slack-jawed stare of a zombie. "Ever consider a career as a Pez dispenser?"

"Ever consider giving it a rest?"

"Aw, come on. How much fun would that be?"

Ren got dressed, admitting to himself that it would not be much fun at all. Yuan might drive him up the wall at times, but that was part of the strange sort of brotherhood they had evolved throughout high school. They hung out now and then, stuck together on the football team. Yuan got into the macho hype from time to time, pestering Ren to live a little as well, but he seemed to be in it for the amusement value. He never bought into it wholesale like the meatheads who had nothing else going for them whatsoever.

"Hey Rockman."

Moose's nickname could be seen as an insult to the animal it came from. He was a bulwark of a linebacker with shaggy blond hair hanging in his eyes. On the field, Moose moved like greased lightning. His brain fell on the other end of the spectrum, unable to handle much more than the number of whoever he was about to flatten into the turf. Who knew how Moose kept a high enough grade average to stay on the team, but his athletic ferocity might very well trump the usual standards of academic performance.

"How do I write my name in Chinese?"

People usually stopped asking such questions when they got old enough to know better. Then again, Moose seemed unlikely to know better about a great deal of matters more obvious than that. "You don't," Ren replied. "Why?"

"I was going to get it tattooed on my leg."

"You could get my name tattooed on your leg," Yuan offered.

"Why?" Moose scowled. "So everybody would think I'm gay for you?"

"You should be."

"You'd like that?"

"No way." Yuan smirked. "I have standards."

Yuan could afford to fire off his mouth at will. He was built like Moose and not afraid to get in trouble if his words came back to lock him in an impromptu wrestling match. A foot shorter and not as intimidating off the field, Ren preferred to keep his trap shut. Especially now, with that three-letter word blazing through his head in neon purple. Yuan could get away with the gay jokes as well. He had been with the same girl for the past year. Ren, on the other hand, had never been lucky with dating. But he had woken up from lurid dreams about the rugby team captain, dreams that made him unable to look the boy in the eye the day after - and had him hoping for a rerun when he went to sleep.

There were guys at school who dated other guys, and everyone shrugged it off as no big deal. At the very least, it meant less competition for the ladies. But those guys were fashionable and polished and put together, sometimes even pretty if they could pull it off. Ren's sense of style could be summed up as baggy. His hair stuck out every which way unless he glued it into submission with about half a bottle of gel. Like Yuan, he was bulky and ungainly and already sporting a beard at seventeen. And his face was not exactly destined for stardom.

Being open with the theater crowd was one thing. A confined space full of machismo made for a different story. On the field, life was straightforward. Plays were made, pants stayed on, and not much else factored into the equation. Ren would be the same old lineman with stubborn strength to stop even the big guys in their tracks. But the closeness of the locker room might get weird. Ren imagined a backslide to that freshman awkwardness of hiding under towels and staring at the floor while getting dressed, as if he would gape in the way that obnoxious guys ogled the chests of every girl in sight. Most would get over it when his eyes kept their usual discretion. Some might try to include him, specifically allowing male candidates in the discussions of which celebrity everyone wanted to bang that week. Even so, he would be Ren the Gay instead of Ren the Guy. Preference first, person second, although he had been the same all along.

"We're there," Yuan said.

Ren looked at him quizzically.

Yuan sighed. "A party. The party. Keef's place. Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

"Why are we going? It's not like we ever talk to him." If Ren had not known Kiefer personally, he would swear the kid was a transplant from that sort of high school that only existed in Hollywood. He was almost too stereotypical. Blow-dried. Homecoming king. Rich parents, huge house, minimal supervision. And nothing in common with Ren and Yuan apart from their team jerseys.

"Because everybody else is." Yuan nudged him. "Especially girls."

"Like who? Bunni-with-an-i?" Ren had taken his chances on exactly one party this year. In his infinite wisdom, Yuan had brought over a cheerleader whose main concerns were reality shows and the proper spelling of her name. Ren had left her by the beer keg, wondering how anyone managed to swill that pisswater down and keep it there long enough for another round. Perhaps it really did make such events more bearable. "Besides, I have that English paper to finish." Which could be done over the upcoming week, but Yuan did not need to know that.

"We've got to get you laid. Then maybe you won't be so uptight."

"I'm not uptight," Ren grumbled. "And look who's talking. You're not exactly Cao Cao yourself." Their older cousin had never been without a girlfriend, and he often dated several women at once. Yuan sometimes speculated about what else they might all do at once until Ren told him to shut it. There were lines of thought he preferred not to cross, especially with regard to relatives.

Yuan shrugged. "Not my fault she wants to wait."

"Then why can't I?"

"You want to be a virgin forever?"

Sanchez stopped rummaging in his gym bag and cast a curious glance over his shoulder. Ren's face turned atomic red. He automatically sprung off the bench, slamming Yuan into a locker with a satisfying _bong_.

Yuan picked himself up and went back to tying his shoes. "Nice show of dominance, but you ought to save that for when the girls are around, you know?"

The door opened. Coach poked his head in, fixing Ren and Yuan with a beady-eyed squint.

"That was all me," Yuan said. "I tripped."

"Yeah," Sanchez piped up. "He tripped."

Coach scrutinized them all for an unbearable moment as visions of squat thrusts danced in Ren's head. With one last suspicious raise of his eyebrows, he turned around and left.

"You owe me one." Yuan bumped Ren's shoulder. "It's party time."

"Whatever."

* * *

Lights.

Adrenalin.

Fury.

The stands were bright with Bulldog blue, the night riding high on a live wire as the coin toss kicked it off for the home team. The crowd dispensed equal measures of damnation and deliverance - raging over a fumble, singing hallelujah after a seventy-yard touchdown. And Cao Ren lived up to his rocklike nickname. He got down, dug in, shoved back. He served up a hard tackle to some weasel of a runner who had evaded an avalanche of bigger guys on the line. The score wavered on a knife edge, swaying back and forth between wrested touchdowns and longshot field goals. It was the latter that sealed victory, sent home by Sanchez as the clock ticked its final seconds.

When they all shook hands through bleary-eyed exhaustion, their compliments were sincere. _Good game._

* * *

Xiahou Yuan drove a relic of a sports car that he had bought at scrap price to fix up himself. The exterior was a bovine patchwork of faded paint and primer. The engine purred with a low rumble and screamed when Yuan got it out on the highway. Rides typically came with a full-blown lecture about the turbocharger or fuel injector or whatever else he had installed the week before. Cao Ren had once responded to a dissertation on gear ratios with wonderment over how Yuan could make sense of all that yet nearly fail algebra. The reply - _That's not about horsepower, cuz'._

Kim took her usual girlfriend privileges of riding shotgun. Ren was squashed in a back seat apparently designed for those legless plastic people from the preschool playroom, with nowhere to put his feet up because a friend of Yuan's occupied the other side. The greatest hits of the '80s blared in his ear courtesy of the largest speakers Yuan could afford.

"Can you move that up any?" Ren asked.

"No can do." Yuan had pushed the seat all the way back to recline in style. "Not my fault I'm tall."

"Not so tall you have to sit like an asshole," called out his friend in the back.

Yuan guffawed. "I am what I am, you know?"

Ren almost wished that the ride would never end. They could drive around for the rest of the night instead of going to this party where he would still be dealing with cramped space and cheesy music. Maybe he ought to give it a chance, throw himself at it as Yuan seemed to barge into any social situation and end up on both feet. They had just won The Big Game, capital letters and all. That would help break the ice. But it might also stick Ren with the sort of arm Velcro he had wound up with last time, an embarrassment that twisted his stomach when he allowed himself to remember it. He had avoided Bunni-with-an-i only to get crawled all over by some girl who had been drawn to his football jersey like a bug to a light and was about as appealing once the novelty of physical contact wore off. Ren had tolerated her vapidity for a week and then wormed his way out of their tenuous relationship by ignoring her until the message sank in. He should have insisted on being friends first. He should have waited for a guy. At least the whole experience had put a lid on Yuan's blather about the virtues of random hook-ups.

Yuan drove through a burger joint where he ordered and paid without turning down the tunes. His ponytail - more like a barely constrained puff high on the back of his head - bobbed along with the music. Yuan did a drum flourish on the steering wheel, a brief warning before he assaulted them all with an off-key falsetto. "Oh, Mickey, what a pity you don't understand. You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand..."

Ren tried to kick Yuan's seat. He only managed a weak nudge with his knee. Perhaps this was the real reason Yuan had him all folded up like a jackknife. Kim playfully punched Yuan in the arm, shutting up his unimpressive solo.

"Better watch out," Ren said. "He'll stick you back here next time."

Yuan grinned in the rear view mirror. "I was already going to stick her in the back next weekend."

Kim punched him again - hard - but she was laughing just as much as the rest of them.

* * *

Kiefer's house was just as unbelievable as the guy himself. If nothing else, this party gave Cao Ren an idea of how some people lived. The vast ground floor was already packed with kids in various states of inebriation. A projector screen covered an entire wall of the rec room, showing a frantic mishmash of video to go with the pounding music. The kitchen was a steel and granite oasis with a bar's worth of booze lined up on the counters, a self-appointed mixologist handing out drinks, and the obligatory keg parked on an island in the middle.

Ren dug a can of pop out of the cooler only to be ambushed on the way up. "Don't you want a real drink?" Yuan asked.

"Maybe. As long as it tastes okay."

Yuan handed over his cup. "Here. Try this."

Ren took a sip and gagged, forcing it down before he could spew out his lunch along with it. The concoction came off like fermented underwear drowned in cheap aftershave. "Ass in a Glass," Yuan declared.

"Yeah, I'll say." Ren scraped his tongue on his teeth, trying to get the rankness out of his mouth. "How about something - I don't know. Sweeter?"

"Oh, like a girly drink?" Yuan lifted up his shirt, displaying his hairy gut. "I got your fuzzy navel right here."

An eye roll. "I guess I'll take a beer."

Squeezing his way through the mob, Ren tried to understand what he was missing. The main attractions around here were public groping and mass quantities of alcohol, and neither seemed to be worth the aftermath. His stomach leaped when he caught sight of a rugby jersey and a familiar shock of tousled brown hair. It sank when he noticed the perky girl at the boy's side. The two of them were locked in a mushy gaze, shoo-ins to get voted cutest couple during Valentine's Week when school looked like the Jolly Pink Giant had taken a heart-shaped dump all over the hallways. When they leaned in to kiss, Ren could practically hear Cupid mocking him.

Ren downed his beer in three great gulps, chugging the pop afterward to flush away the foul tang. This gave rise to a sinus-rattling burp that barely made a dent in the music. Maybe this was why people drank at these parties. Maybe he needed a second round. Ren got another brew and went outside, no longer concerned about the taste. Its bitterness was distracting, scourging, pure and harsh as the frigid night air.

Yuan appeared, getting Ren's attention with a surreptitious nudge. He nodded over to a lone girl surveying the patio. "Pretty cute, huh?"

Ren shrugged. "She's okay, I guess."

"Aw, come on." Yuan winked. "You're bored. She's bored. That's something in common."

"You remember where that got me last time."

"Don't live in the past, cuz'. Think of the future." Yuan gestured with his cup, almost splashing Ren's shirt. "Why don't you bring her a drink?"

"Why don't you give it a rest?" Ren snapped.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Yuan put a hand up. "You get shot down or something?"

Ren held back a nod, feeling a sudden urge to explain himself rather than conjure up some bullshit to satisfy Yuan's inevitable curiosity about who she was and who she was all over instead. On one hand, Yuan had enough discretion to keep it on the down low. He might blab about romantic inexperience, but that had more to do with his usual opinion that Ren needed to get out more. Liking guys was an entirely different matter.

But Yuan also had a way of coming up with questions and not knowing when to stop. _Are you a pitcher or a catcher?_ Ren doubted that his dreams counted as either. _So what's guy on guy porn like? _He had not dared to search for any. _Can't you just look at yourself in the shower?_ No - Yuan was not quite that dense, although he was oblivious in his own way. Once he got going, it took a serious comeback to shut his mouth. Ren rarely had the fortitude to dish it back as needed, and this was not exactly prime time to test his skills. Just thinking of the worst embarrassed him enough.

Even so, the worst would get itself over with in one conversation - and very well be worth the relief of confession.

"Yuan."

"Yeah?"

_I'm gay._

Two words lodged sideways in his mouth, bumping and sticking and weighing on his tongue.

"Forget it."

With that, Ren turned and stalked off into the yard.

* * *

Cao Ren wandered through the manicured maze of Kiefer's yard, passing clumps of kids that thinned out as he got further from the house. Some were talking, others texting, and one guy was taking a leak in the bushes. It was an asteroid belt of sorts - a drunkoid belt, perhaps - and Ren needed a free and clear space of his own, some quiet corner to hide in until Xiahou Yuan sobered up and got in a mood to leave. Yuan, master of faking it until he made it. And if he failed to make it, he dusted himself off and tried again. Yuan would get burned on a hot stove and go back for another shot. Ren would give up and walk away, just as he was doing right now. As if it mattered. He had nothing back there worth fighting for.

Ren found a bench hidden among hedges where the stars were bright and the debauchery a distant murmur. He sat down and stared up, trying to find the man in the moon. He had never managed that as a kid, and now was no different. Just a bunch of splotches, just people making something out of nothing. Just a crock of shit like this whole stupid shindig.

He realized he had spoken aloud when a voice piped up in response. "You got that right."

An ember winked in the darkness, floating near a familiar profile. Kiefer took a puff on his cigarette. "Don't tell Coach," he added.

"I wasn't about to." The team shared a brotherhood of sorts, a trust that took priority over accountability to the powers that be. Regardless, Kiefer's lung capacity was his own business.

"I figured, but you know how it is."

"Yeah." Ren turned to him. "So what are you doing out here?"

"Same thing you are. Getting away from it all."

"But it's your party."

Kiefer snorted. "It's everyone else's. There's a difference."

"Who cares what everyone else thinks?"

"Easy for you to say." A deep drag, followed by a series of smoke rings. "Not so easy for me to do."

Ren mulled over that statement as Kiefer worked on his cigarette. He had expected the guy to be king of the world around here, reveling in the booze and the crowds and the mayhem in the same way that they all got a rush from being out on the football field. Strange as it initially seemed, the truth was no real surprise. The top of the social pyramid carried certain expectations, especially if you had floated up there on a raft of fair-weather friends and filler brought in to increase the head count. Ren and Yuan were only here because of their jerseys. And some were only here to hang out with The Team, even if they never interacted otherwise. It was one giant charade that everyone played their part in, a law of high school nature like that lingering odor of old socks in the locker room. Just as immutable, and it all stank about the same.

"Maybe I should. I'm not like they think I am." Kiefer stubbed out his butt and lit up another. "Ever talk to a girl and get shut out because she thinks you're just messing with her?"

"Can't say I have." Ren had once witnessed this particular form of cruelty. The girl in question - some shy, offbeat academic type - had been not so secretly mooning over a popular jock. He had invited her to a dance only to make a great show of breaking plans, with his friends all standing around for a laugh as she slunk away in shame.

"You're lucky."

Two words blurted out before Ren could rethink them. "I'm gay."

Kiefer choked on his cigarette.

"Not for you, I mean." A moment later - "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's cool."

"All of it?"

A nod.

"I figured." Ren shrugged. "But you know how it is."

Just visible in the moonlight, Kiefer smiled.

* * *

The party had mellowed by the time Cao Ren got bored of drifting around in the cold. Some of the horde had moved on, leaving a more manageable crowd. The music still blasted at an ungodly volume, but at least there was room to breathe and scenery to be amused by. A clump of freshmen stood against a wall, clutching their beer cups as if standing guard over beakers in the chemistry lab. When the playlist turned to classic funk, four big guys took up some sort of butt dancing chorus line. They paraded around the living room for several songs, never managing to sync up with the music or each other.

Xiahou Yuan made himself known with an elbow to Ren's ribs. "You're going to love this."

"Love what?"

"I just came up with the best idea ever."

That tone of voice could only mean trouble. In his most recent stroke of genius, Yuan had blown a month of car savings on an undercarriage neon kit without bothering to see if it was street legal. He had learned the hard way by getting a ticket the first time he showed it off. His parents, who normally gave him free rein to tinker as long as the garage remained standing, had insisted that the neon be removed. Yuan was still looking for a secondhand buyer to make some of his money back.

Yuan pointed to the kitchen. "Take a look in there."

Same as it ever was, apart from the used cups and bottles and cans heaped wherever they would fit. "It's a mess. What's your point?"

"You notice that the keg is unguarded."

"So?"

"So we take it upstairs and start charging for refills. Anybody complains, just push them back down."

Ren boggled. This was excessive, even considering the source.

Yuan smirked. "Told you it was the best idea ever. Are you in, or are you in?"

"I'm out."

"What for? You know you'll get half. And I'll finally get those hubcaps I've been after."

"The car's still three different colors."

"Two," Yuan corrected.

"Whatever."

Yuan shrugged and wandered off, apparently giving up on the idea. Ren learned otherwise when the keg thudded on the carpet, just missing his foot. "Well?" Yuan jerked a nod at his prize. "You going to help me carry this, or what?"

Ren hauled the keg up to his chest, almost losing it himself as he fought for a grip on the slick metal. He marched it back to the kitchen and wrestled it into the tub of ice on the counter, sloshing a lake of frigid water onto the floor in the process. As Ren wondered if he should bother looking for a mop, Yuan demanded to know what his problem was.

"This is low. Even for you."

Yuan smirked. "I prefer to call it an opportunity."

"An opportunity to be a mooch."

"Come on, cuz'. Chrome doesn't pay for itself."

Ren shot him a look. "And Keef didn't get this keg to subsidize it."

"What's it to you?"

"He's a reasonable guy."

"He never talks to us. You said so yourself."

"I take that back. He just talked to me."

A blank stare in response.

"He's bored. I'm bored. That's something in common."

"So that makes three of us." Yuan dug out his keys, gave them a jingle. "Want to go for a ride?"

"Are you okay for that?"

"I only had my one drink, and that was a while ago. I'm all good." Yuan demonstrated just how good he was by balancing on one foot, closing his eyes, and hollering the alphabet backwards until Ren poked him in the gut to shut him up. To a casual observer, Yuan sober was about the same as Yuan under the influence. But Ren knew that he had a handle on his limits, impromptu proof aside.

"I'm all good, too. Just in case you aren't."

Yuan guffawed. "Any excuse to drive my car, huh? You sure you can handle it?"

"I learned stick in driving school." Ren conveniently failed to mention that this was a year ago, and he had not practiced since.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just not sure you can reach the pedals."

Ren snorted. "I'm pretty sure you can blow me."

"You're lucky I'm not actually drunk. I might have just had to take you up on that."

A baffled silence, Yuan's usual smirk of victory, and they were on their way outside.

* * *

They got off to a shaky start. Xiahou Yuan played keychain keep-away until it almost got repetitive enough to be funny. He trotted out the short jokes as Cao Ren wrangled the driver's seat into a more reasonable position. And he visibly winced when Ren almost clipped a mirror on Kiefer's mailbox, then mistimed a shift into second gear after they were out on the street. But the steering wheel had a satisfying heft in Ren's hands, and the engine percolated with barely leashed power. The mechanics of shifting became familiar once again, smooth and natural as throwing a perfect spiral. Ren relaxed into the seat, wishing it were warmer outside so he could rest his arm on the window as well.

They took turn after turn, winding down indistinguishable suburban streets that eventually spit them out onto some strange highway. Their phones would guide them back to the party when the others wanted to leave. Until then, there was only the open road. Yuan turned up the tunes and they rolled down the windows to sing, ignoring the chill wind and the fact that no one would be around to hear that they ate their candy with the pork and beans. Their time, their terms, their scene - any way they wanted to make it.


End file.
